The Story of Us
by Exceeds Expectations
Summary: I was thirteen years old the first time your name extinguished the candles on my birthday cake. You were blind then, as young boys often are, and so I offered you a slice and hoped you would taste the sweetness of what we could be together. /Letters and scribbles from Victoire to Teddy, telling him all the things she wishes he'd remember and all the things she wishes he could know.


**A/N: **Written for Sugar Quills in owluvr's Honeydukes Competition, where the challenge was to write a fic based around writing. Violá!

Thanks to TamariChan for betaing. Go check her out, she is the Cross-Gen Queen!

And I'm gonna go ahead and dedicate this to Oliva, aka owluvr herself, because I know she's been waiting on me to write TeddyVictoire and because she's pretty bloody awesome.

* * *

_Found under the bed of a teenage Victoire Weasley, scrunched into a ball and faded around the edges._

* * *

Teddy,

Sometimes I think I see you looking.

Are you?

* * *

_Found in an old History of Magic book in the attic of Shell Cottage._

* * *

I wonder if I sometimes smile like paper (too easily torn) and you smile like ink (indelible and staining my soul) and maybe we belong together but you just won't look.

(Teddy, when will you learn?)

* * *

_Found in an old notebook in Dominique Weasley's wardrobe, between scribbled hearts and initials that are written in the handwriting of someone who isn't Dominique Weasley, but is pretty bloody close._

* * *

I could be a poet. If you would be my poem, I would write you a thousand different ways and never throw a full stop at your smiles.

I could be a singer. If you would be my favourite song, I would sing you in a million different melodies and never falter at your high notes.

I could be yours. If you would be mine, I would kiss you good morning every day and promise you forever.

I could be happy, if you would be happy with me.

* * *

_Found in the diary of seventeen year old Victoire Weasley._

* * *

Oh, Teddy.

I've been watching you for years. I pressed kisses to my pillow and pretended it was you, stroked my own face with my eyes closed and imagined how much rougher your fingers would feel, hummed to myself at night and imagined you were singing me to sleep with your heart pressed close to my back.

You kissed me today, at King's Cross.

It was soft and gentle and perfect.

But James came along and then I had to say goodbye and board a train and I'm so conflicted because I love you for noticing me and I hate you for waiting until I had to leave and I love you for kissing me but I hate you for kissing me _then _and I love you for being you but I hate you for not being _here._

I wait for Christmas with my heart doing back flips in my throat and the thought that we will have cold, winter nights together where I can let you kiss me under the December stars and feel your warm hands on my face.

Maybe we can curl up by the fire and you can sing me Christmas carols until I fall asleep to dreams that you are my Nutcracker.

Oh, Teddy.

The calendar is too still for my liking.

* * *

_Found tucked into a book on Teddy Lupin's bookshelf in a book Victoire bought for him when he got his first job._

* * *

You told me you loved me today. I panicked because it was sudden. I feel too young for this, but know that I care strongly for you, Teds. And when I kissed you, that's what I was trying to say.

Vic

* * *

_Found in the diary of nineteen year old __Victoire __Weasley._

* * *

You've been mine for a while now, Teds. But let's be honest here: you've always been mine, haven't you?

I was thirteen years old the first time your name extinguished the candles on my birthday cake. You were blind then, as young boys often are, and so I offered you a slice and hoped you would taste the sweetness of what we could be together. You didn't.

You were a blushing fool whose hair danced through the colour wheel like children through flower fields; brightly, happily, peacefully. You tried to keep it turquoise most days, but, sometimes, you forgot. Those were my favourite days. You would blush and mumble and frantically try to calm your nerves enough to change it back.

I loved how shy you were, you blushing, mumbling fool.

You still mumble a lot though, don't you? I don't know what it is. It used to be endearing, your shyness sweet and cute, but now it infuriates me, Teddy, because I want to hear every single word that you care enough to say, and I want to hear them loudly, proudly, in the pale curve of my ear.

Sometimes I wish I knew the wind's name, so that when it steals the whispers from your lips and carries them away in its blue, autumn hands, between tornados of falling leaves, I can scream, "Stop! Thief!" and know who to blame for the words I never hear.

But I don't, so I blame _you _for not believing in me enough to know that I would never laugh at you, never judge you for the things you want to share with me.

And I'm not sure if this is the way to tell you (because I still don't know if I'm brave enough to see your eyes rake my words) but there are things I want to share with you, Teddy.

I want to share midnight kisses with you beneath the July stars every summer for the rest of our lives. I want you to take me on a picnic in the lazy August sun and I want to roll around with you in fields of green and taste ripeness in the air. I want to hold you close as summer dies and kiss your sun-cracked lips with the thought that there is always next year.

I want to share my body with you, so that you know every curve and every crease as well as I do, if not better. I want you to touch me with comfort, with familiarity in your movements and tenderness in your smile. I want you to trace my spine every night, as I fall asleep in your arms, to remind me that there are parts of myself that you will always know better.

I want to share my future with you, Teddy. I want you to still kiss my eyelids when they are thin and veined and crumpled like fallen fabric. I want you to hold my hands and trace the veins that have grown brighter, more prominent with age. I want to caress the lines of your face and know that I was with you for the birth of each and every one.

I want to share my love with you.

All my love for all my days,

Your Victoire

* * *

_Found in an old box full of wedding albums and stray photographs of Victoire in her dress and Teddy with his nan and the whole family dancing under the stars._

* * *

When I said _yes _I meant _why has it taken you so long? _but you looked so bloody happy that I just kissed you instead.

* * *

_Found caught between the birth certificate of Remus and William Lupin, born August 14th 2025._

* * *

Teddy,

My greatest memory will always be your voice when you held both our sons close on the eve of their birth and whispered their names as if they were prayers. You held a boy in each arm and told him you loved him. Our sons fell asleep for the first time listening to the sweet melody of your voice and knowing that Daddy was there to keep them safe.

Your eyes were alight with tears of joy, tears of love, tears of _I__-wish-they-could-see-me-now._

I know your parents love you just as much as you love our children. Don't ever doubt that.

* * *

_Found in Teddy Lupin's wallet, underneath the pictures of his children._

* * *

I'll never forget that night that you told me I was your greatest victory. I still have the flower you tucked into my coat that night.

I keep its dry, faded petals between the pages of my diary so that I can keep you with me whenever I write.

You are my greatest victory, Teddy. You are my greatest everything.

Your Victoire

* * *

_Found tucked inside a wedding invitation, the envelope yellowing down the side of Will Lupin's bed._

* * *

Do you remember the night we became a family, Teddy? It went from me, you and a bump bigger than all our fears put together, to me, you and our beautiful twin sons.

And now they're growing up and moving on and I want you to know that I love you more and more each day for the life you have given me.

We watched Will become someone's husband today. Fay was beautiful, all dark skin against the white of her dress, big, brown eyes and an even bigger smile. I'm so happy that they found each other, but it still feels like I'm losing him, and it shouldn't, should it? So I cried floods into your robes and you told me it was okay with a gentle squeeze of your fingers and a soft kiss to my temple.

Our son said _I do _in the same shaking voice as you, so many moons ago.

Where did the years go, Teds?

* * *

_Found in a box, caught between childhood photos of a young girl with ginger hair and a boy whose smile could split the sun._

* * *

Teddy,

My hair is grey and my hands are weak, but my memory is just as strong as it was when we fell in love.

I remember every single day here. I always will.

Vic

* * *

_Found tucked between the pages in the diary of 114 year old Victoire Weasley, the page stained slightly from old rose petals and fallen tears._

* * *

Dearest Vic,

I miss you.


End file.
